A Silent Witness
by MaryRoyale
Summary: At Hogwarts there are some who mark and remember those that have gone before. They might not be human, exactly, but magic has made them sentient... in a way. The walls of Hogwarts might not have ears as we know them, or eyes as we would recognize them, but they have witnessed much. No pairings.


_**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Season 2 FINALS**_

_**Team:**__ Falmouth Falcons_

_**Author: **__MaryRoyale_

_**Position:**__ Beater #2_

_**Final Challenge: **__This round's theme is non-sentient objects. Or, more specifically, things that might in a general sense be considered non-sentient. You're allowed to make them sentient if you wish. :D Walls have ears, wands choose the owner, those sorts of things. :D Of course, you are restricted as to what you can pick for your POV... But just to make one thing clear, they don't have to be in first person. You can use third person, so long as whatever object you've chosen comes strongly through as a character! a piece of infrastructure (eg. wall, window, ceiling, floor)_

_**Title:**__ A Silent Witness  
__**Official Disclaimer**__: The original characters of this story are the property of the J.K. Rowling. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. It is my contention that this work of fan fiction is fair use under copyright law. No monies received for receipt of this work. _

_**Prompts:**__ current, ancient, victory_

_**Pairing: **__None_

_**Rating: **__T  
__**Word Count:**__ approx. 1200_

_**A/N: **__Finally, the final round of finalness. I've been Beater #2 for the Falmouth Falcons for two seasons. It's been an absolute blast and I've loved my team. They are all amazingly talented, blindingly brilliant, and I couldn't ask for a better group of compatriots. I won't be doing season 3 as I have too many obligations currently. _

/\/\/\/\

"They're very small, aren't they? We weren't that small... were we?" Professor Longbottom appealed to Headmistress McGonagall.

_You were exactly that small. All of you were at one point or another. Even young Minnie was that small, in her time. _

"Oh yes," Headmistress McGonagall replied with a slight smile for the memory of Neville's first year.

One of students, so excited to be Sorted, leapt up from the stool with the Sorting Hat still on his head. Neville snorted in amusement and Headmistress McGonagall sighed.

"How often does that happen?" He asked curiously.

_Exactly 853 times. _

"Oh, every so many years," Headmistress McGonagall explained. She nodded toward the nervously waiting First Years. "They're so excited to be here, and the Sorting is overwhelming for them."

_And we are excited to have them. Every year the summer seems to drag by forever and the closer and closer we get to autumn the more excited we all become. Eunice on the third corridor has been practicing being a door for months. She can hardly wait for a student to go through her._

"I remember," Neville murmured quietly.

"As their Head you will be the one that they come to when they are homesick or upset or uncertain," Professor McGonagall continued. "I recommend that you try to get to know some of the older years. See which ones are kind and patient, and then have them mentor the younger students. You cannot do it all on your own, Neville."

_It is good to know that young Minerva has learned the error of her ways. When she was in your current position Mr. Longbottom she tried to take care of each and every student all by herself, and all on top of all of her regular duties. She was so over-worked that she collapsed and Madam Pomfrey had to threaten to strap her to the bed to get her to rest. _

"Yes Headmistress," Neville agreed.

"Potter, James!" The Deputy Headmaster called out.

A memory flashed of another boy who looked rather like the young boy who had taken his seat on the stool. He had marched proudly up to the seat and confidently put the hat on his head. This boy did the same—unconsciously echoing that other James Potter.

"James Potter," the Headmistress murmured. "That brings back memories."

"He looks just like Harry except for the eyes," Neville offered.

"They're James' eyes. The first one, I mean," the Headmistress told him.

_No, the very first James Potter had blue eyes like his mother, Lucinda Fawley. He still had that hair though. Merlin only knows where that comes from. Even the first Potter ever to grace the halls of Hogwarts had that hair. I think it was the hair that made Milonia Peverell accept his suit. _

"Oh."

The Headmistress chuckled. "You're in for a grand first year, Professor. If you have any questions or concerns, please come see me. My door will always be open to you."

"Yes, Headmistress." Neville watched the Gryffindor table with an air of worry.

/\/\/\/\

"How are you settling in, Professor?" Professor Flitwick asked politely.

Neville sighed. "I don't know if I'm cut out to be a professor."

_From what I've seen you will be a marvelous professor. You are fair and just—yet you are kind. Students are not afraid to ask you for help, and they all work hard to earn your praise. You remind of Godric when he was young. _

Professor Flitwick's lips twitched. "What has young Mr Potter done now?"

Neville groaned and put his head in his hands. "It's Harry all over again. The only good thing I can say for him is that he isn't consorting with dragons or trying to open the Chamber of Secrets."

_Hmph. The Chamber of Secrets. A lot of stuck-up masonry if you ask me. The walls down there act as though they are better than anyone else. A ridiculous room. And it's hardly secret when everyone and their dog knows about it. _

"Ah, yes. A failing of the Potters in general," Flitwick observed. "James' namesake did his fair share of hair-raising stunts. More than once I thought he was going to give the Headmistress a stroke." Flitwick paused and his lips twitched again. "Both namesakes, actually."

_The Potters, as a general rule, weren't all that bad. I wouldn't call myself ancient, but I've been around for some time, and from what I have seen over the centuries it is more that they are perpetually curious. They must always know 'why'. That and a strange compulsion to do anything that they are told cannot be done. It is a curious thing, but I have seen it on more than one occasion here in the Great Hall. _

"I'll just have to tough it out somehow," Neville swore.

"You'll be fine, Professor Longbottom," Professor Flitwick told him encouragingly.

_I agree. Perhaps even better than fine._

/\/\/\/\

"Merlin's beard, they're small," Professor Lorcan Scamander murmured.

Headmaster Longbottom smiled at him. "We all were," he replied.

They watched the Sorting ceremony with a fond nostalgia. Headmaster Longbottom chuckled as Meiling Dursley, Cho Chang's granddaughter, leapt up from the stool to race toward Ravenclaw's table with the Sorting Hat still firmly on her head. Lorcan snorted in amusement and nodded toward the Ravenclaw table where the excited First Year was speaking to her tablemates.

"Does that happen often?" Lorcan asked.

_Exactly 861 times._

"Oh, every now and then," Headmaster Longbottom replied with a slight smile. "It's the excitement you know."

Lorcan nodded. "I remember being a First Year. I was so excited and nervous."

Headmaster Longbottom tilted his head slightly. "Why were you nervous?"

"Living up to Mum's reputation," Lorcan said with a shrug.

Headmaster Longbottom blinked. "Ah. Yes. Luna did have... quite the reputation during her time here."

"You don't know what it's like being the child of a War Hero. Everyone was always stopping Mum and shaking her hand. Once, we were in the middle of the Amazon hunting for Quilted Squapigs, and we ran into an Amazonian wizard who stopped us to shake Mum's hand," Lorcan explained.

Headmaster Longbottom blinked again. "I suppose so. I didn't think of it like that. I was always so embarrassed to be stopped."

Lorcan nodded. "Mum was always surprised. She used to say that victory hadn't been her sole responsibility—that loads of people helped."

Headmaster Longbottom smiled slightly. "That sounds like Luna."

_It does indeed sound like Miss Lovegood. She always had a kind word for us. She knew that we had ears, you see, and she felt it would be rude not to acknowledge us. We were all terribly fond of her, and we were sad to see her leave. _

After the ceremony was done and the students, staff, and faculty filed out of the room, Lorcan hovered near the wall.

"Erm, Mum sends her regards. She hopes your masonry is holding up well, and that the caretaker is keeping an eye on your mortar," Lorcan muttered and then blushed brilliantly.

_And the same to her. It was very thoughtful of her to think of us._

Lorcan twitched slightly. "Thank you. I'll pass it along."


End file.
